


Dark Wings Bring Dark Words

by TreeOfTime



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Older Man/Younger Woman, Red Wedding
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-21
Updated: 2019-10-09
Packaged: 2020-07-09 15:08:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,297
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19889851
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TreeOfTime/pseuds/TreeOfTime
Summary: Sansa Stark and Arya Stark grew up learning what the men of their family are taught though their mother insists on their lady lessons, much to their annoyance though Sansa still partially enjoys it, she understands she is not a damsel, she is a Stark. They are expected to act like ladies when King Robert arrives with his entourage. Sansa listens to her gut about Joffrey and refuses to go to Kings Landing, instead the sisters stay, their father leaves with his men to become Hand of the King and they hear his supposed treachery and execution. The ladies of Winterfell will not be left behind to let the men fight their war. It's their war too.Until the treachery of the Bolton's and the Frey's at the Red Wedding makes them realize, they are just girls in a men's war and they must survive treachery. They are the last of the Starks, the pack must survive.Sansa has more sense in this fiction then young Sansa in the books. It follows the idea of the war.





	1. Dark Wings

Chapter one

“Well done, Arya.” Sansa praised her sister, watching with pride but simmering jealousy as she hit the hay target with an arrow, dead center. Her sister gave her a toothy grin that Sansa wanted to smack off with her open palm, but she simply smiled prettily in return. Sansa couldn’t help the jealousy she felt towards her more talented sister, but she was also proud of her. She was meant for it, to be like the men of their house. Sansa could manage to hit dead center, but Arya didn’t even have to try now. Sansa had to take deep breaths, forget everything, all sound, every distraction, to be able to hit it just like Arya did. Arya just… excelled. Sansa shifted in her leather clothing, rather enjoying the feeling of her trousers and loose leather doublet as her dresses always felt tight and she could barely breathe in the corsets around her ribs.

“Very well done.” Robb praised, smiling at the youngest sister of the Stark siblings, Sansa felt her hand clench around the bow she was holding, the leather gloves she wore making noises by the stretch, as she waited for her turn. Jon stood next to him and smiled that knowing smile, proud of his dearest sister. Sansa wasn’t jealous towards their close relationship, but Arya seemed to glow at Jon’s smile, his response meaning the most.

“She could probably beat us at next years festival.” Theon smirked as he leaned against the beam in the courtyard where they were practicing, amused, “If they let a little girl in.” He sneered now, “Which they don’t.” In response every Stark near him turned and gave him a drool look, while Arya gave him a hand signal to go flirt with himself while her older brother’s backs were turned. Sansa only saw it because of the angle of her body and her peripheral. Sana smiled at that, an open relaxed smile as a chuckle threatened to escape her throat.

“I didn’t realize that’s why you couldn’t enter last year, Theon.” Arya sneered back, puffing her chest out as Robb and Jon chuckled in amusement while Rickon and Bran came rushing up, both very dirty. Theon made a face at that and turned away, deigning not to respond while all the Starks laughed at him looking so girly at his pouting. 

“Alright, Sansa, your turn.” Robb chuckled, gesturing for her to step up while playfully rubbing Bran's head and making his hair stick up even more. Sansa took a deep breath and took her position, taking the offered arrow between her gloved fingers. Snagging the string and pulling it taunt, she straightened with the pull and felt Robb step closer. “Don’t overthink this.” He whispered, correcting her elbow position and she gave a sharp nod. She took a deep breath, held it, and released the arrow. Every man in the courtyard of Winterfell that was watching the Stark siblings practice archery cringed as the arrow hit a target, but not the chest. It instead hit the groin and sank deep into the spot. Arya was the only one to laugh, pointing at Robb’s cringe as he turned away partially, protecting his manhood as if Sansa was targeting him. Sansa felt a deep flush enter her face as Arya kept laughing, clearly delighting in her mistake and that made Sansa even angrier.

“Would you shut up?!” Sansa turned and snapped at her sister, Arya looked shocked and clicked her jaw shut but the shock turned to anger.

“Its not my fault you can’t hit the right place!” She snapped back, furious with her,  
“I think she did hit the right place.” Theon remarked loudly and men in the courtyard laughed while the maids gave her sympathetic glances, making Sansa blush harder in humiliation. Sansa shoved the bow into Robb’s chest and turned, planning to flee when a wolf cloak caught her attention and she stopped short, staring up to see her father and mother looking down at her. Lady Stark had a disapproving expression while Warden of the North had a curl to his lips in his amusement.

“Again.” Ned Stark ordered his oldest daughter and the laughter quickly stopped and everyone looked away, very interested in their daily work, not meeting the gaze of their lord. Sansa stood there, angry at his order and the curl of his lips were gone, making her flinch. She sighed and slumped her shoulders, going back to Robb, she took the offered bow and arrow. Getting back into her posture, she tried again. It hit a few inches above the arrow and Theon scoffed, making sure she heard it. Sansa looked down at her muddied leather boots only to see boots enter her vision. Slowly looking up, she blinked in surprise to see her father meeting her gaze. His eyes warm while his weathered face was stern. “Again.” He told her firmly, handing her another arrow.

“Father-“ She protested but stopped short when he gave a single shake of his head, not going to listen to her protests.

“Again.” He told her firmly, making her sigh as she positioned herself. “Ignore everyone but my voice. There is nothing else but your target. That target is your enemy, he’s wounded but he’s going to kill you. You need to kill him, stop him from hurting you.” Sansa slowly felt everything fall away but her father’s voice, almost imagining a man stumbling towards her with a sword, his eyes blazing in hatred. “You’re a woman, he won’t just kill you, Sansa. He’ll keep you alive to break you.” Those words sent chills down her spine but also determination in her chest. She took a deep breath then let her arrow fly and in shock, it landed directly in her target’s chest, nicking Arya’s arrow.

“There you go, little sister!” Robb cheered, making Sansa squeal when he picked her up by her waist. Sansa laughed, delighted when he set her down after briefly spinning her. Over the heads of her siblings congratulating her success, she met gazes with her father, she smiled, and he returned it though it was his small smile. 

“My Lord!” Someone called, and it quieted the children of Ned and Catelyn Stark, her success forgotten as their Maester approached them, his chains tinking with a small message clutched in his hand.  
‘Dark wings bring dark words’ A little voice whispered in Sansa’s head as she stifled a breath of concern as she watched her father’s blank expression slipped on as he took the message.

“Off to your lessons.” Ned ordered his children, making Arya groan in protest but Sansa let out a breath of relief, loving her lady lessons by their septa. “But first,” Ned’s words stopped them and they turned to him, his lip curled. “I think baths should be organized before those lessons.” Arya sniffed her armpit blatantly and grew confused.

“I do not smell!” Arya replied indignantly, Sansa bit back a smile as she plucked hay out of her little sister’s hair.

“You do.” Sansa teased, making Arya blush angrily as she showed her the straw that came from her hair. Sansa laughed and quickly fled, Arya hot on her heels.


	2. Bring Dark Works

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm a slow writer, comments welcome, I will editing this chapter more :)

Chapter Two

“My eyes feel like they are being plucked out of my sockets by crows.” Arya muttered out of the corner of her mouth, displeased as she destroyed another cloth piece by her embroidery practice. Arya looked funny at the way she squinted her eyes like a septa slowly loosing her sight before her expression became pinched with anger, now an angry septa displeased with her students work. Arya tossed the cloth aside and was promptly given another one to work with, with needle and thread already prepared for her by Septa Mordane. Sansa gave her a partial smile, not wanting to take the brunt of their septa’s annoyance so she turned away from her sister, Sansa instead admired her flowers with pride. They even had a touch of shadow to it from darker thread. While Sansa could master the manners of a lady and the requirements for courtships, Sansa had begun to lose interest as she got older, training with her brothers and sister made her hands became calloused and scarred. Once she was enticed by the idea of a true honorable knights, being saved like a damsel, and being the perfect lady… it no longer appealed to her, she had felt weak, simpering and needing another to save her from the brutality of the world. Her father had made sure she had seen the brutality of the world, it had been a long discussion that had crushed her heart but also making her watch him commit an execution of a Crow that had abandoned his post had been a valuable lesson.  
“The hour is almost over.” Sansa whispered into the shell of her little sisters’ ear, reassuring and conspiring with her while her hand reached, she gently loosened the neckline of her sister’s dress by untying the ties at the back of the neck cloth around her throat. Arya gave her a relieved look as Sansa had begun to spot red irritation on her pale skin and wanted to soothe her. Though Sansa was jealous of her sisters’ talents in weaponry, it gave her comfort that Arya would never master the expectations of a proper lady like she could. Arya sniffing her armpit at that moment reassured her insecurities, making her a bite back a smile as Arya was still disgruntled at their father pointing out they smelled from their training. Arya seemed to think she was subtle but the giggles of the other maidens in the room with them showed they were watching Arya as their entertainment. Septa clicked her tongue and the giggles ended abruptly, while her little sister looked up in anger after sniffing her other armpit.  
The silence continued except for a few comments from their septa or the titter of maidens across the room from Arya and Sansa. Sansa was just finishing up her final stitch of her leaf when Septa Mordane curtsied as the door opened. Sansa looked up to see their mother standing in the entrance with a partial smile, everyone else stood and curtsied their Lady. Catelyn Stark smiled wider at her two daughters, though Sansa had an inkling feeling that it was because they were clean and wearing the dresses, she had designed for them.  
“Sansa, darling, walk with me?” Her mother asked but her tone showed tightness in her voice in command, Sansa glanced at Arya in confusion but did as she asked after settling aside her sewing work. Sansa set her hands over her belly and quietly followed her mother’s lead once the door was closed. They walked side by side quietly, Sansa felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand up in warning, concerned. Her mind raced at what possibly could be the issue as they made it to the stairs, which led to the parapets and the only one she could think of was their maester, Maester Luwin. He had done his checks with her and Arya, seemingly taking note of her blooming body but other than that, she was growing tall and completely healthy. They suddenly stopped and Sansa blinked as she looked out at the summer glades of their home stretched out before her eyes. She marveled at the beauty of her home, but it was quickly dashed as her suspicions were indeed, correct. “You are becoming a woman, Sansa.” Catelyn Stark murmured, reaching she tucked a strand of fire behind Sansa’s ear, smiling. Sansa met her gaze and gave a faint nod, trying to read the deepening lines of age of her mother’s face and her blue eyes. It only revealed her mother’s thoughtfulness.  
“I am.” Sansa replied slowly, “I will need new dresses and leather jerkin, but doublets for my arms with trousers for my legs.” Sansa knew partial excitement entered her tone and any positive feelings she felt was doused at the tightening of Catelyn’s mouth and displeasure now in her expression. Catelyn looked away and stared out at the North, quiet for a moment before responding.  
“You are a lady, Sansa. The need for trousers and doublets is no longer needed.” Catelyn briskly spoke, waving her hand in the air. Sansa felt like she was thrown into a teeth chattering lake.  
“…what?” Sansa responded slowly, dumbfounded. Catelyn glanced at her, her expression softening to ease the blow of news given and well not received.  
“You must stop those lessons by your brothers, Sansa. You are soon to be lady of Winterfell. A lady cannot fight or act like a man.” Catelyn switched to her soothing motherly voice, trying to ease a pain with her voice alone. Sansa sharply shook her head in response, stepping away from her to angrily glare at the North.  
“I will not, father wants me to protect myself. I am of the North, I will not be weak.” Sansa responded, remembering the reason her father had told her she must learn. “The women of the Starks must change.” Sansa added after a moment, her shoulders rising when her mother touched her elbow with her gloved hand.  
“Do not speak about what you do not understand, Sansa-“ Catelyn began before Sansa interrupted her.  
“What about Lady Mormont? She can fight and she’s a respected fighter. Arya admires her, nearly worships her as the women of house Mormont are allowed, why not us? Why even humor us if you want us to stop and let go of our strength?” Sansa argued, her voice rising partially. Catelyn’s lips turned thin in response and Sansa could see the surprise in her brow lines.  
“She is not a Stark, she doesn’t have higher expectations compared to you.” Catelyn responded, her words controlled. “A lady must follow her lord husband no matter the decision, to be his advisor, to be at his side. Ladies are meant to lead, from the side, not be the lord.” Catelyn chided, making Sansa stiffen further in anger.  
“So she must play by sly remarks and whispers? She cannot fight like her husband? I will not let my husband or lord take my voice, my will, to be who I am.” Sansa hissed, fighting to raise her voice as two soldiers came by on their walk, bowing to them before continuing on. “I’ve seen how that works by my Septa, mother, the other maidens are mean to Arya. They mock her for her being strong, for not being like them, and refusing to play by their rules Septa Mordane insists upon. It makes me ill in my belly.” Sansa saw the disappointment on her mother’s face and Sansa looked away, not wanting to see it. “I will not play.” The horn of approach to Winterfell was loud and made Sansa focus out past out the parapets, delighted to see her father returning with her brother’s on horseback though they were just dots in her eyes. Sansa curtsied to her mother before heading to the stairs, wanting to greet her family with their return. Though she hadn’t been entirely sure why they had gone out, though she had heard whispers from the maids that a turncloak of the Crows had been found on their lands and father had to deal with it.  
Sansa stopped near the open courtyard once she managed down the stairs and past the workers on their daily chores. Sansa was shifting in her dress stiffly just as the large doors opened and in came Ned, Robb, Jon, Theon, Bran, and several soldiers of House Stark.  
“Father!” Sansa called out in greeting, smiling widely just as she spotted her brother’s arms filled with struggling masses. Confused, Sansa watched as they got closer and Robb trotted over on his horse and shoved one towards her face. Sansa gasped in delight as pretty sharp eyes met her gaze and a yip escaped the mouth of the mass. “What is this, Robb? A wolf?” Sansa asked in delight, taking the mass and smiling wide in sheer pleasure at how calm the pup was in her curled arms.  
“A direwolf.” Robb explained, dismounting as Sansa dropped her mouth in surprise, looking back at the mass in her arms. Their sigil blessing them this way? It took her breath way.  
“Where is her mother?” Sansa asked softly, rubbing the ear of the pup in her arms, feeling a warmth enter her heart.  
“Dead, there is a pup for each of us.” Robb soothed her, resting a hand onto her shoulder as realization entered her gaze before she turned sharply to her father who had just dismounted.  
“We can keep them?” Sansa asked excitedly and her father smiled, though it was tight.  
“You must care for yours, Sansa. Feed it, care for it, and protect it like its mother. Do you understand?” His voice deepened in warning and she jerkily nodded.  
“Oh, I promise, father! Thank you!” She squealed, hugging the pup in her arms tighter, ignoring her mother’s pinched and angry gaze as she joined her lord husband’s side.  
“She’ll need a name.” Robb asked after a moment, his pup tucked under his arm as he looked at his sister warmly. Sansa quickly thought, considering that before glancing at her mother, meeting her gaze. Sansa suddenly wondered if her mother would permntely be disapproving of her daughter, and her endless expectations of being a lady being disappointed. It suddenly clicked and Sansa chuckled softly, meeting her brother’s eyes, smug.  
“Lady, her name is Lady.” Robb arched an eyebrow at that just as a squeal was heard across from the courtyard and Sansa saw Arya rushing forward, Jon having a pup waiting for her outstretched arms. Sansa could almost feel Catelyn Starks stare, having made sure her voice was louder when she declared Lady’s name. Sansa felt everything slip away that night, even when during dinner as she fed her pup when Lord Stark announced that in two months’ time, King Robert with his family would be visiting. It only occurred after when Arya and herself were preparing for bed, too tired for another bath and the maids were gushing in excitement. Only then, and just then, Sansa realized in dreading realization that more dresses and lessons were in store for her, their mother would make sure of it.


	3. Direwolf

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The time for Robert and his entourage is nearing!
> 
> Sorry for those waiting for this newest chapter, I've been busy!

Chapter Three

“Father, may I have your permission for Arya and I to go riding today?” Sansa asked, having stepped into her father’s solar, watching him work at his desk while writing letters for the ravens to be sent out to the other houses of the North. Eddard Stark looked up, his eyebrow arching at seeing her wearing her riding leathers already and his lip curled up partially before it was gone. Sansa almost questioned if it had been there at all if not for the light in his eyes as he leaned back in his chair.  
“It seems to me, Sansa, that you were already intending on riding today.” He paused, making her shift under his gaze, “Without my permission.” Sansa gave him a shy smile, knowing it looked exactly as her father said.  
“Arya gave me the idea if we dressed for riding, we could win on two fronts.” Sansa said, considering her words carefully, knowing better then to insult her lord father. His arched eyebrow returned to his face and she continued. “We could either be ready to go riding when you gave your permission or,” A sly smile appeared on her lips. “We could take longer getting into our dresses for our lady lessons.” Her father was quiet for a moment before he started to chuckle, his eyes gleaming with mirth, making Sansa join in. Arya in that moment decided that the laughter was a go ahead as she burst in without knocking, grinning as she was completely dressed for the riding Sansa was broaching with their father. Ned Stark chuckled again at the sight of Arya, shaking his head.  
“Have you begun making plans with Bran and Rickon?” Lord Stark inquired, his laughter having faded off as Sansa gave Arya a less enthusiastic eye roll for her rude entrance.  
“Why would I do that?” Sansa asked, her brow furrowed.  
“You’ve begun to plot like them.” He responded evenly and Sansa grinned, not at all insulted at her father’s teasing.  
“I’ll have to begin making notes, father.” Sansa responded, pulling her riding gloves off her belt, her thumb rubbing against the soft leather that fit her hands perfectly.  
“I’m sure you will, you may go. Bring a few guards and Jory.” He gave her a pointed look and Sansa nodded, understanding before she approached and went around the desk to give him a peck on the cheek.  
“Thank you, father.” Sansa gave him a soft smile as he took her hand, squeezing in affection. Sansa enjoyed the feeling of his calloused hands before Arya decided she wanted in, throwing her arms around his neck. Ned Stark grunted at the weight and let go of his eldest daughters hand to pat Arya on the back, mirth in his expression before Arya gave him a loud kiss on the cheek before rushing to the door.  
“I’ll get Jory!” Arya yelled over her shoulder before promptly colliding into their mother.  
“Arya!” Lady Stark exclaimed before pulling up short at the sight of her wearing her riding leathers, her Tully blue eyes landed on Sansa and registered the same outfit. Her blue eyes darkened in anger and Sansa wanted to curse like the peasant men when they hurt themselves while working.  
“You two are supposed to be doing your lessons.” Their mother snapped, glaring at Sansa and she winced, but she didn’t back down but met her gaze evenly.  
“We’ve been doing so much lady lessons we want to take a break, we’ve been at it since the announcement of King Robert coming to visit.” Sansa replied evenly, though she wanted so much to make her voice scathing. Their mother had been making them do double the lessons since the announcement at dinner a month ago and Sansa had begun to suspect that their mother was the one who had made her doublet and trousers go missing. It wasn’t even a day later that she discovered them missing that their mother presented her and Arya with two new dresses. Arya and Sansa had then worn them in the courtyard and got them covered in mud from their practices. Their mother had been furious and made them clean their dresses instead of their servants. It had worked, as the dresses had been ruined and thrown away by the servants after their ‘futile’ attempts of removing the mud… and shit. Arya and Sansa had been smug about it, privately though.  
“Of course, you’ve been doing more lessons, Sansa. Many southron knights to escort King Robert here.” The implication didn’t go over Sansa’s head and she couldn’t help the scoff that came out of her mouth, so very unladylike that it made their mother scowl.  
“This is why we’re doing more lessons? So you can marry me off to some southron man? Who’ll take me from the North and restrict my training?” Sansa felt her voice crack at the word ‘restrict’ and Arya looked between the two ladies, confusion on her expression before it became angry. She turned sharply on their mother and hissed like a cat cornered by a mutt.  
“Is that why our clothing for training went missing?!” Arya demanded, making Sansa want to slap her hand to her forehead in horror. Typical Arya to go right for it when her emotions came to the forefront of her mind. The only reason why it hadn’t come out earlier was they had been alone when looking for their training clothes and Sansa had calmed her down. Getting her to calm down with the dresses had only been possible at giving the idea of them destroying them at training. “So we can’t train when Fat Robert and his entourage arrive and won’t see it?!”  
Catelyn Stark opened her mouth, but she clicked it shut as the scraping of a chair on stone echoed in the room. Sansa had completely forgotten their father had been there, quietly listening to this confrontation.  
“Sansa, Arya.” His voice sent a chill up Sansa’s spine to her head, knowing that tone. “Go riding, bring Jory. Now.” Sansa looked at her mother and saw the tight pinching in her brow and mouth, her eyes sharp as she stared at their father, spiteful. Sansa felt Arya’s hand on hers and she quickly pulled, breaking Sansa’s concentration. Sansa didn’t protest further as they fled the room past their mother. Sansa could feel the heat of their mother’s gaze, they would suffer consequences, Sansa knew deep inside her bones. Sansa had already been suffering through it, she and her mother hadn’t spoken truly since the parapets and Sansa was rather relieved, angry at her for expecting her to whimper like a newborn pup and take its mother nips in punishment. Sansa wasn’t a pup, she was a direwolf now.  
Sansa and Arya quickly grabbed Nymeria and Lady from their rooms, they had gotten so big already, but Sansa didn’t mind as she opened her doublet and shoved the pup in, tying her direwolf in. Lady sighed, such a gentle wolf that loved cuddling with Sansa though her cold nose stuck into Sansa’s neck, making her shiver. It warmed Sansa’s bitterness away while she looked up and laughed as Nymeria fought Arya, such much like each other that Sansa forgot all about their mother. Arya finally managed to get her tied into her clothing and they quickly rushed downstairs, not wanting their father or anyone else to change their minds. Jory was practicing with the men, so loyal to their family and like a uncle to them. When they asked for him to come along, he jumped at the chance and brought their several best guards. They were, after all, basically princesses of the North. Jory though didn’t try to act too excited about getting away but since the announcement of King Robert arriving, soldiers were practicing harder and the servants were stocking up on food, it was legendary how much King Robert could eat and as Arya said, he was called King Fat Robert for a reason.  
Sansa helped the stable boy with putting her saddle on, knowing it by heart, as her mare waited patiently, such a gentle thing that her father had gotten her when she had turn fourteen. The poor boy tried to protest but one look from her had sent him scuttling along to help, knowing his place compared to Sansa.  
When they finally managed to get past the massive doors of Winterfell, Sansa had looked up and seen her mother staring down at her, her face flushed red with anger from the parapets. Sansa quickly looked away, knowing that look in her eye. Her father had reprimanded their mother and in turn, Lady Stark would return the favor, not on her husband but with her two fiery daughters who had gotten her humiliated. Servants and guards always had their ears pressed to cracks, anything to gossip about, especially when it came to the Lord and Lady of Winterfell.  
Sansa didn’t want to trot through the doors, she kicked her mare’s side and went rushing past Jory and the guards, she couldn’t handle the stress anymore from their mother. She felt like the walls with pushing against her, making her struggle to breathe. She heard Arya shout in glee and rush quickly after her, laughing and hooting at the pace Sansa set. It made her grin while Lady yawned against her neck, snuggled in for the ride as Sansa ran her mare over the hills, playing with Arya once she had caught up to Sansa’s pace. Sansa felt every worry and every concern slip away as she felt like a child again, chasing and playing with her little sister without worrying if she’d rip her dress or ruin her northern braids. Sansa let go. And it was ‘fun’.  
Sansa and Arya chased each other back and forth, exhausting themselves and their horses, while Nymeria yipped in demand to be let down and ignored while Lady seemed content to sleep or watch the hills go by. Their guards stayed close but didn’t try to keep up to breathe down their necks, letting them have their fun. Sansa knew her hair must be crazy even with the braids as Arya’s hair in her braids was just awful, sticking up like cattle had licked her hair on all ends. It made Sansa laugh, feeling so young and free with her little sister.  
Eventually, as the sun begun to set, they slowed down, feeling bad for their horses and letting them rest at a nearby stream. Sansa and Arya let their pups down and they chased each other, yipping and nipping at each while Sansa giggled breathlessly, feeling her eyes tear up at such childish glee. There was no competition between them, just good fun. They sat down near the stream, picking grass and flinging it back in forth until finally, they too had no more energy. They laid on their backs and stared up at the darkening sky, content in the quiet. It stayed like that for quite a while until Arya’s mood shifted, it turning darker with her thoughts.  
“She’s going to be even worse… isn’t she?” Arya murmured to Sansa and Sansa winced, nodded slowly.  
“Yeah, especially to me. She wants to begin introducing me to knights and young lords. She’s going to make it worse on you too, she’ll want you to stop your training once she had me tied down.” Sansa felt her voice crack at the last few words and bit back tears, gritting her teeth in anger.  
“Fuck Fat Robert.” Arya muttered and Sansa didn’t bother gasping like a lady, instead she laughed. By the old gods… she truly loved her little sister. No matter how jealous she was of her at times.  
“Fuck Fat Robert.” Sansa echoed and sent them both into high squeaking giggles.  
“But not bodily.” Arya said straight faced before sending them into fits again.  
“Definitely.” Sansa scoffed between biting her lips to control herself. Lady and Nymeria came wandering over, cuddling and seeking warmth as the air got colder. “I don’t wan to marry some southron lord.” Sansa admitted, growing serious.  
“Then don’t, fight this tooth and claw like a direwolf.” Arya responded, staring at her little seriously. Sansa considered it, wondering just how she could do that, especially since her mother would be breathing down her neck when the time came for introductions.  
“Like a man and direwolf.” Sansa suddenly murmured and Arya cheekily grinned.  
“Even better.” Arya chuckled, amused. “How about this, how about we promise each other we won’t back down, we won’t let mother make our decisions, let’s make our own paths, and make any man before us cower. Only a true man would want a true fighting woman.” Arya seemed to age then, speaking words that Sansa thought she wouldn’t understand at all.  
“Promise?” Sansa whispered after a moment of silence, Arya looked at her again from petting Nymeria and nodded, her expression pinched as she held out her hand. Sansa automatically clasped it, like two warriors meeting on the battlefields that were old friends and allies.  
“Promise.” Once they let go, their childishness came back and Arya grinned at Sansa, eyeing the hill they were at the bottom of. “Think we could roll King Robert down this hill or would he bounce?” Sansa could only laugh, loving her more then words could describe in that moment.


End file.
